


Quæ Mergunt

by Emriel



Series: Taken [28]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Angst and Tragedy, Blood and Gore, Character Death, M/M, Master of Death Harry Potter, Mind Manipulation, Mirror Universe, Opposites Attract, Psychological Torture, Slavery, Temporary Amnesia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2020-03-18
Packaged: 2021-02-25 22:09:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,859
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21882787
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emriel/pseuds/Emriel
Summary: Harry Potter killed Voldemort, and despite that, he feels incomplete. And as Death's master, his wish is granted and in turn he finds himself in another time where muggles have been turned into slaves and muggleborns are treated like second class citizens.Tom Riddle is tasked to take care of him and begins to groom him as one of his followers. Harry, reduced to a twelve year old who could not remember anything, finds himself in a never ending nightmare over accepting the kindness of those who are evil, and ignoring the plights of the innocent. Will he become one of them? Or will he fight for what he thinks is just?
Relationships: Harry Potter/Tom Riddle, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort, Harry Potter/Voldemort
Series: Taken [28]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/965817
Comments: 48
Kudos: 191





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I just can't find the inspiration to continue any of the other WIPs yet but anyway this is another twisted story. * - * But maybe not as twisted as my other works. I don't even know anymore. Have fun reading.

Voldemort’s death haunted him.

Harry kept wondering if there was no other way.

And just like that, he was lauded as a hero. One moment, he was the most undesirable with a bounty on his head and then public opinion changed right after Voldemort was killed.

He wondered if there was a way to redeem a person despite how evil they were, but once you’ve killed someone, their presence is gone from the world. And killing someone, could it be justified?

Harry tried to tell himself that at that moment there was no time to think and who was he to blame the others for their lack of action. He was the one who decided to hunt the horcruxes and succeeded. And yet the responsibility weighed on him.

He thought about the possibility of imprisoning Voldemort just like Grindelwald? But Harry knew thinking back, there was no need to listen to his conscience because the deed was done.

And to travel back in time to correct something he perceived as wrong would pose consequences. Maybe it was better that he was gone from the world. He lost the ability to speak to snakes. And Harry knew the connection was at last broken from there on.

A part of him thought he would simply forget about this, move on, and have a happier life after, but strangely enough, the gnawing feeling didn’t disappear.

And here he was, gloomy despite the holiday season. His dreams were haunted of the many faces of those who died in the war, if it could be called that.

* * *

The choir was singing, and their voices were akin to angels. The bells were ringing, and the house elves were busy churning out more and more food in the kitchen to serve to them and some guests.

He sat there with Hermione in the great hall, and all around him people were moving, talking and celebrating. Jolly cheer all around, gifts exchanged, platitudes, and plans for the winter solstice. Beside him, there was one Ginny Weasley, holding his hand, and he pretended to just nod along as if he was part of the conversation.

The air was warm, and in front of him, a glass of pumpkin juice. He was absently eating piece of scone, and at the same time pondering what to do with the wand, the ring and the cloak...

The ministry questioned him repeatedly, on how he was able to avoid death for the second time, and there was a part of him that did not at all wish to mention the secret, and so he did not. The knowledge was something he’d take to the grave, if he could die at this point.

It seemed absurd, that immortality was what Voldemort craved, and yet he died without even reaching a hundred years. 

So young.

_"I pity you."_

“Harry, do you want to spend the holidays with me?”

_**"Remorse would have saved you."** _

Harry tilted his head and saw Ginny’s smiling face. It was warm, full of love. The type that had her eyes shining with it.

“Why?”

He asked before he could stop himself. Ginny looked rather striking, with her hair up in a bun, lips pinkish red, and the ugly knitted sweater that probably came from her mother was even attractive on her. The great hall was dazzling, and if one could take a picture, that would have been the perfect moment, with all the sparkling lights and the snow frosted windows.

Behind her, raucous laughter and a couple of their year mates saying “cheers” at another round of butter beer.

But after the empty silence, Ginny seemed to frown a little, and said, “Why… You’re seventeen now… and I thought you’d want to. You promised, after all this, we'd be together...”

“Ah... that I’d want to spend time with you and your family. I... “

Harry stood up, and said, “Sorry, Ginny… I haven’t been feeling well lately. Let's talk later.”

She was hurt, and it was painful to see her in pain. She loved him and Harry wondered if he loved her back, or did he just need a body to warm him up?

Ginny looked concerned and stood up as well, “Harry, what’s wrong? You’ve been very cold lately and I just want to cheer you up...”

That pinched expression was something Harry didn’t like to see. It made him extremely uncomfortable but he wasn't sure if he wanted to turn her down and end their relationship in front of everyone just like what his head was telling him to. So he turned away.

“I need to be alone.”

And he left. When Ginny tried to follow, Ron pulled her down, shaking his head.

* * *

Harry thought that during the war, Voldemort would have taken the initiative to kill off all the muggleborns but, here they were, alive, if not haunted. Now that the Dark Lord was defeated, the Slytherins who openly supported the Death Eaters were now on the receiving end of hostile glares, and bullying.

It seemed like the least of his worries but there was a part of him that was tired of it all. A part of him wanted to stand in front of others and stop the never ending blame. "It's over." After all. Those who didn’t know better would simply join the bandwagon. And he knew what it was like to be bullied. It wasn't fun. And Harry just turned a blind eye to it, having had enough of trying to act like the hero for once.

He didn't know why they simply wouldn't just relocate. That's what he would have done if he could. Run away. Somewhere safe. Draco Malfoy in particular, who decided to stay in Hogwarts despite some of his peers relocating to France, or elsewhere, was the constant target, and he was beat up to the point he had to be sent to the infirmary thrice that Hermione had to step in and give them a rather long and lengthy lecture about morals.

And the consequences of losing it.

Which didn't do anything and the bullying continued. It would die down. Eventually. Time will heal things. Or so, Harry hoped.

House unity was like a dream, but at the very least it wasn’t much different from how it was before. At least dark wizards were being caught by Aurors, and Hogwarts was safer than it was before.

The war affected many people in the British Wizarding Community, but their business as usual attitude swept those affected with a cheer up charm and the festivities covered the grim reality that many people would never come back to life. All the missing people and all the dead corpses would be a stark reminder of what would happen should they not “remain vigilant”.

And yet their Ministry decided to forgive those who were clearly in the wrong, for they needed funding. Buildings had to be repaired, wages have to be paid, and if anything the Ministry found a rather lucrative way to recover, by publishing anecdotes of his heroic defeat of Voldemort, accepting donations from nearby communities and imposing harsher rules with Dark Magic.

And Harry questioned himself if he wanted to become an Auror what with the corrupt ministry. He always wanted to be one, but a part of him knew that with the power of the Deathly Hallows, anyone who went against him would potentially… lose or die, because if he was _immortal_ then how could anyone overpower him? But then, Harry realized he could still hurt, if he was captured. And here he was second guessing himself, the many what ifs. He did not understand what being the Master of Death meant, and what kind of power he had over the living, but lately... he could feel it.

Souls. As if at any moment, he could pull out their souls, and drain it of color. And then, they will pass on. The idea of their death almost did not bother him, to the point that he started questioning if these thoughts made him less of who he was. It was strange and frightening and he told himself never to act on such urges.

But there was no one around to talk to about it without being accused of being "mental."

_You used the power. You came back to life. Now you must pay._

_Use it._

Harry shook his head at the voice and the urge. He then vowed to himself that come tomorrow, he would destroy the wand, the cloak and the ring. It was simply too dangerous on his hands.

Moving across the castle like a ghost, he climbed stair after stair, and found himself in an abandoned alcove. It had a small balcony which allowed him to look out the castle, out into the lake. The air was frosty.

“Accio broomstick.”

It was the perfect time to go flying.

Without much thought, once the broomstick, his beloved firebolt was before him, he was briefly reminded of who gave that to him.

Sirius.

His hand tightened around the firebolt, and he mounted it without much thought until he was soaring through the skies.

Flying.

The horizon was constantly changing, depending on his altitude. His hands were freezing, and it wasn't until it started hurting that he remembered to cast a warming charm upon himself.

If his professors were to reprimand him for flying, he could care less.

The stars were in full view, glittering in the horizon.

And on the lake, the sky was mirrored that he could not even tell which was the sky and which was the water.

So he went down, and as the mirror grew closer, his hands reached out to touch it, icy depths calling out to him.

In a place where everyone was already happy that the war was over, he still felt unbearably alone.

And then, the voice.

_You want to know… why you feel so incomplete?_

Harry suddenly found his throat constrict and suddenly he couldn’t breathe. His grip on the firebolt loosened up.

_You don’t belong here._

Around him his vision turned black, to the point that he could not even see. Until he was blind. And he fell into the water, water sloshing all over around him as he tried to struggle, but he coughed out whatever air that was inside his lungs.

* * *

Waking up, Harry was surprised to find himself in a white walled room. “Oh… he’s awake.”

Harry coughed and was staring at the hand that was dangerously close to his face. He hated being touched, and swatted it away.

“Don’t be scared, we’re here to help,” the female voice said. She looked vaguely familiar, a mediwitch came closer, casting a spell on him. “Your fever finally went down.”

“W-where… who are you… what happened…?”

“Now that’s a question we would like you to answer. Mr. Potter, you collapsed and magically exhausted yourself...”

Harry stared at the young visage of Dumbledore.

And started laughing, “But you’re dead.”

Harry pointed, and looked left and right, trying to calm himself. He could recognize that he was in Hogwarts when he saw the view from the window.

“Dead? I’m quite sure I have not died, my boy. What makes you think so?”

A distinctively younger looking Dumbledore looked at him with curiosity. An older man soon appeared behind Dumbledore, and blinked when Harry said, “I saw you die… Severus... He had to... And you were cursed… I-”

“Perhaps the boy is in shock, Professor Dumbledore. It’s the first time he’s woken up from the coma.” The mediwitch looked at him in concern, “Drink this. You’ll feel better.”

Dumbledore placed a hand on his knee. Kind eyes looked at him and Harry swallowed his fear as he took the offered glass. Should he drink it at all?

“I… What’s in this? It’s poison… am I going mad? You haven’t answered me…? Where am I?” Harry skittered away, and pointed his finger at them, wholly expecting his wand would be there. “Where’s my stuff? Where’s my wand…”

“This merely a calming draught. It should help you breathe.”

Harry started crying, not wholly understanding what was happening, and his magic was rising about him, causing things to vibrate.

“No, I don’t want to, don’t make me.”

That was when someone tilted his head and cast, “Imperio.”

“Drink.”

Harry was forced to drink and everything became blurry.

"You will tell us all that you know..."

* * *

Later he found the world moving in ways it wouldn’t normally do. It was tilting from side to side and spinning. He couldn’t control his mouth and answered question after question but soon forgot what the questions were, together with a lot of his memories.

Masked people came and went, prodding him, and they did not stop until he started vomiting blood.

Then, all he could do was lay there, and beg them, "I want to go... home."

But even that came out garbled.

_'Where was home? What was home?'_

* * *

When he regained consciousness, it was already sun down. He was very sure that several hours had passed but after blinking one moment, the next, he was looking at the moon. So much time seemed to have passed within the blink of an eye.

“Tom, I’m sorry for the trouble but you'll be taking care of Mr. Potter. You have been recommended by dear Horace, you see. My boy, ensure that he does not get into trouble, or the Potter house will have our heads. He will join Slytherin for his second year. His possessions have been sent to the dorms as well.”

"I can take care of him, however I must still attend my classes and my duties."

"That's been taken account of. Your hold over the house will prevent him from being ostracized, that much we are hoping for. You see, he is a _special_ case."

"Special? In what way?"

"I am not allowed to disclose the full details but the ministry is keeping watch of him. Now, he will be disoriented from the healing potions, and he will remain that way for several hours but he should be good in a few day's time. His magical core is still... recovering."

"I see. Is there any advantage to this? My prefect duties will also be affected and if I am to be the guardian of this boy I really do not want Slytherin to—"

"A hundred points will be awarded to Slytherin, and the Potter family has agreed to pay you a sum of a thousand galleons if you can keep him safe for at least a year."

There was a pause.

"Very well."

Harry felt everything was a blur and he could hear the conversation going on but could not make anything out of it, “G-glahh sses...”

A slender hand held it out to him. And Harry looked up to see crystal blue eyes looking down at him, with a stoic expression.

“Come with me.”

Harry couldn’t put two and two together. “W-wait… c-can’t.”

Harry tried to stand and tripped, finding himself pressed against a rather warm chest. Somehow being pressed against the stranger’s chest was calming and the urge to sleep overcame him.

He tried to fight it, knowing something was distinctly wrong. And then, when he tried to speak, he lost his voice. His hands reached out to his throat and he stumbled away from the stranger but he was pulled back, and righted to stand up.

He managed to stand for a few seconds and followed the black cloaked stranger.

He was led out of the infirmary but pretty soon it became apparent that he was simply falling to his feet. “You’re in no way to be moving about on your own… Why did they ask me to take care of you when you’re clearly not well yet?”

Harry knelt on the floor and tried to reply but before he could come up with anything, the thought slipped past him, and he simply gave in to the frustration and whimpered.

Tom sighed and cast a feather light charm on him, just so he could carry the boy.

Harry was dizzy and pressed his head on the warm shoulder blade, and fell asleep like that.

* * *

By the time he opened his eyes, he was in the Slytherin dorms. The familiar green of the room came from a distant memory but he couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong with the room and with everything.

Ever since he drank the potion, something happened, and the memories kept slipping by, as if he wasn’t exactly sure who he was or what he was doing there.

At least he remembered his name, but couldn’t even move his mouth.

The kind stranger who carried him laid him on the couch and sighed. The people in the common room ushered closer. “Who is he?”

Harry felt lost, staring off into space, unable to focus on the conversation around him. Just remembering that there was something special about the water, and how he drowned from it. And just outside the window, he saw it, water.

Then he was breathing harshly, clutching at his heart.

“Tell me, what’s wrong?”

Harry pointed at the window. Tom gently brought the boy’s hand lower and pulled him closer to his side. “They did something to you…”

Harry merely nodded, but wasn’t quite sure what he was agreeing to.

Tom looked at Avery, “Get me a calming draught and a sleeping potion.”

* * *

“So who is he, Tom?” Abraxas asked.

Harry was placed in a special room within away from the rest of the second years. Tom sipped coffee as he stared at the fireplace and told his year mates, “His name is Harry Potter.”

Tom then twirled a spoon in his cup as he added more sugar. Then he drummed his fingers together, “It’s a mystery. From what I’ve discovered from the higher years, the boy was found passed out by the lake, magically exhausted and almost dead by the time they rushed him to the infirmary. The Potter family refused to say anything about the matter but it was confirmed he is of their blood… and they've requested me to take care of him. After the ministry was summoned earlier this week, he was questioned and placed under the protection of Hogwarts. Then he was sorted in Slytherin.”

“I don’t understand why the Potter family would hide him. And a Potter in Slytherin at that.”

“Possibly a bastard. We don’t want anymore of those mudblood sympathizers,” Arcturus mentioned with disgust.

“Now, now. We don’t know what kind of child he is... but if anything he looks underfed, and a bit too young to be in his second year.”

Tom nodded. “He’s been placed under my responsibility, and for now we’ll keep him safe. Dumbledore was the one who gave me this task so I have reason to be wary.”

“I don’t think we should be wary of him… I mean, look at him.” Elladora Black chided Arcturus and Tom.

Tom crossed his legs and said, “He is still a mystery. Regardless, it wouldn’t do us any harm to stay cautious, Ella. He was unconscious when they brought me to him. But from what I know, several ministry personnel came, even unspeakables. They probably messed up his mind during the process. He doesn’t remember anything aside from basic magic and his name. Abraxas, use your connections in the ministry to confirm this and figure out what they wanted from him.”

“With pleasure, my Lord.”

* * *

Harry tapped his quill down the piece of parchment. He was drawing a triangle, a circle and a stick, overlapping each other.

There was also a couple of important names like Hermione, and Ron… but he wasn’t sure who they were to him.

“We’re talking to you. Are you deaf?”

Harry blinked and looked at the blonde who identified himself as Abraxas Malfoy. “Harry,” he was hexed to feel a pinch on his cheek and Harry finally stopped writing.

“You’re going to be late for breakfast in the great hall. Tom would hate that.”

“Tom?” Harry had a vague image of a red eyed man and shivered. He closed the vial of ink and stored his writing materials inside his bag.

While they were walking, Harry began looking elsewhere. The sun was shining from the windows, and the dust motes were floating again. Abraxas just shook his head at how absentminded he was. Harry never realized the wide berth that the other Slytherins gave him and Abraxas.

While walking with the blonde Malfoy who stopped talking when he realized Harry would not even reply to him... Abraxas was surprised when Harry pointed at the grey colored robes of people, “Why… do they have a different uniform?”

“Oh, you don’t even remember that… Those are mudbloods, Harry. They don’t quite belong here, so they wear a different uniform. Salazar Slytherin, once made it a rule that no mudblood was ever to step inside the castle but the other houses managed to convince him on one condition, that they were to be distinguished from the purebloods and that they cannot belong to any house.”

Harry’s heart went out to the mudbloods finding the rule odd. “A pureblood like you should never associate with them.”

“Am I a pureblood?”

Malfoy laughed, “Of course. Look at what you’re wearing.”

Harry looked down and saw the Black Hogwarts issue robe with the Slytherin crest.

Inside the Hall, only black robed people were eating, so he tugged on Abraxas, “Where do they eat?”

“The kitchens. They’re none of your concern, Harry. You’ll never even interact with them unless it’s to hex them.”

Harry bit his lip at this, horrified at the thought that he’d meet someone his age that he’ll hurt deliberately.

Abraxas ruffled his head and told him to sit with them.

Harry found himself next to a blue eyed teenager, who was much taller than him. Harry felt self conscious when sitting down. He could feel the blue eyed stranger staring at him.

“Harry, how are you feeling?”

Harry was startled, “H-how do you know my name?”

“Ah, I carried you from the infirmary last night to get you settled in the Slytherin dormitories. I’m the sixth Year Head Boy, Tom Riddle. I’ve been assigned as your guardian while you’re here in Hogwarts.”

* * *

After that, he was handed his class schedule by a portly man who he came to know as his head of house.

The first class was Dark Arts with his year mates.

“You’re so lucky, Harry.” Came a jealous voice behind him. A girl. “My name's Amelinda Bletchley, you should stick with me.” she held out her hand.

Golden blonde hair, brown almond eyes. Has a frilly black bag on her shoulder, and a mean smile.

Harry’s guard went up but shook her hand. She then whispered in his ear, “Be sure not to make Tom Riddle mad, he’s our prince after all.” And then, she took his hand and led him to class, as if he was her new best friend.

Upon entering the classroom, they had a muggle chained on the table and a female professor wearing all black, humming to herself cheerfully.

They shuffled in one by one, and Harry was dragged to sit in front of everyone.

“Good morning, ah and to our newest guest as well, I hope your stay in the infirmary helped you recover. I’ve been told your magical core is still repairing itself so best take it easy and let me know when you’re having trouble. Now, settle into your seats and we’ll begin the lesson.”

Harry felt shy at the sudden attention and the whispering and laughing. Amelinda snickered. Harry tried to make himself smaller. Then Amelinda murmured, “It’s a good thing Tom is taking care of you, Harry. Or else you’re dead. If you're that weak to have magical exhaustion, then you'll never survive on your own.”

Harry glared at her.

“Now can anyone tell me what our lesson for today is?”

“Ulcus Cutis,” Amelinda spoke before raising her hand.

“Correct, ten points to Slytherin. What gave it away?”

From the other side of the room, someone raised his hand. A second year wearing glasses who looked at him sharply then at the body on the table.

“Yes Mr. Eibon.”

“Last lesson, you said we could practice the blood boiling curse, the skin boiling curse, or the skin mending curse. For the blood boiling curse, I've read that it’s enough to see the blood boil from containers of freshly killed animals or people. For the skin mending curse, we would be presented chunks of flesh so we can knit them together and the muggle in front of us is naked, showing lots of skin, so it would be ideal to try the skin boiling curse.”

“Astute, if not lacking. You forgot to point out the dragonhide gloves I’ve prepared for each of you on the table. But for that answer, I’ll give Ravenclaw fifteen points!”

Harry then put the gloves on at the instruction of the professor.

“Now, watch the skin begin to boil.”

The man began screaming, and the professor cast a silencio. "See how the skin releases a scent, as the texture changes. And see what happens when I hold it for a prolonged time like this." And the skin began turning into a different shade. "Or something shorter, like this."

Harry watched this with silent horror and he looked at his shaking hands. "Now, you will all try it, one by one."

When he cast the spell, he instantly felt out of breath, but he successfully cast it. For trying, the Professor gave him a pat on the back. “A promising student. I can’t wait to see what kind of wizard you’ll be, Mr. Potter.”

* * *

Harry was silent as the second years talked about the practical applications of the blood boiling curse. “If you didn’t know, when partaking the delicacies of muggle meat, to ensure that they are killed en masse, they are first drained of blood, drowned, and within ten seconds, they die from being boiled. They don’t use Ulcus Cutis but for those who want to eat them while they’re alive, they use that curse too.”

“Wow… nasty. Have you tried eating it?”

Harry ran away and tried to block the conversation from his head. He then found himself in an empty alcove.

Something was wrong. It felt as if he didn’t belong in the world he was in. A part of him wanted to say that it was wrong, to talk of eating muggles like that, but if it was normal, then why was he protesting? Why was he so upset...

* * *

Later he got lost trying to find the next class, and bumped into the higher years, and Tom.

Before he could think of it, he ran to him crying.

“Harry… what’s wrong?”

And when Harry looked up to _red_ eyes, he felt a burgeoning headache, as if there was pressure trying to get inside his head.

Then, Tom looked up and told his friends to go on without him. Harry was panting heavily and Tom wiped his tears.

“Come with me, Harry.”

He led Harry to the Gardens, and Harry sat there, while Tom observed roses.

“Harry. Do you think roses are pretty?”

Harry nodded, looking wary.

Tom wandlessly broke off the rose, and removed the thorns. Then, he gave the rose to Harry, who took it with his right hand...

“Do you feel sad for the muggle?”

“I...”

Harry just closed his eyes as he simply nodded.

“I’ve been told what was today’s lesson for the Dark Arts. So you sympathize with them then.”

It was an accusation, but Tom looked concerned. He sat beside him, and began combing his hair. Blue eyes staring back at him with... kindness.

Harry then said with all honesty, “It's just that they… can’t fight back… so… he was screaming… And the professor just silenced him, and we kept boiling different parts of his skin… and it turned a different color… and it started popping… water… turning red… blistering. Then… it smelled like meat…”

Tom smirked. “That’s what happens when you boil meat.”

Harry's lips trembled, "I didn't want to do it."

"But you did... that's why you're trembling. It's surprising you are unused to Dark Magic. I see it, your hands, they're shaking. Sweating. Your eyes are dilated. Did it feel good?"

And Harry looked up, betrayed. "It... did... but I didn't want to."

"Shh." Tom placed a finger on his lips. "It's fine. There's no need for you to be concerned. You've lost your memories, and so it's normal to feel compassion for monsters."

"Monsters?"

Tom wrapped the boy in a loose hug, offering him shallow comfort.

“Harry, Muggles have been a thorn for many centuries and it is only because of our victory over muggles that we are able to rule over them now. In the past, we had to hide ourselves from them, but now they know we are their betters. They killed our kind, mindlessly condemning those of us who had magic, even the children, and we fought back and won. We do not want them to go back to their old ways of mindless slaughter and so to the few of them that we torture and eventually kill, it serves as a reminder. That we have not forgotten and have not forgiven them.”

Harry shivered at the cold tone of Tom Riddle’s voice. "Just like the rose. You can only hold it without worry if you remove the thorns. Just be glad we allow the rest of them to live in relative peace. As slaves."

Harry shivered when Tom slowly stroked the hand that held the rose, “Our society believes in the persecution of muggles. I grew up in a horrid place with muggles who hated magic and if it was not for the ministry who found me when I was seven, I would not be alive now. So, the next time you are told to hurt a muggle, take pride in it.”

Harry shook his head. “That’s wrong… that’s… I can’t.”

“How _innocent_.”

“I don’t want to hurt anybody.”

“You have no choice. This is what it’s like to be a wizard.”

And Harry struggled away and threw the rose back at Tom.

“Then I’d rather not be a Wizard!”

Harry ran, but before he could run, Tom froze him.

“Listen to me, child. I don’t know where you came from, but you will follow the rules. I’m telling you this now, because if you stand out too much, you too will be ostracized. I’m protecting you and if you want to remain under my wing, then stop this nonsense.”

Harry stood up, and felt a part of him respond as green eyes sparked, “I don’t want to. I hate... this. I can't. It's wrong-”

“Crucio.”

Harry collapsed on the floor, screaming. He scratched the ground as pain assaulted him. It was only for a few seconds, until it stopped and he was already gasping.

His eyes were blurry from tears and his muscles were spasming.

“Hogwarts is a dangerous place if you're a blood traitor. Many would rather kill you if you don’t obey. You've simply forgotten... You'll soon learn to see things our way.”

Harry struggled to get up but having already exerted himself earlier, he couldn’t move much less breathe. He was gasping like a fish. "No... Someone..."

* * *

Tom towered above Harry. Tom’s countenance changed as he whispered in parseltongue, “ _Do you want to die?”_

He observed the frailness of the body, green eyes with tears. The panicked breathing. It was pathetic. Surely no one wouldn’t mind if he killed Harry, Potter family be damned. It would be an accident. Then he would not need to have such a troublesome responsibility. It would not be the first of its kind and no one was strong enough to challenge the Heir of Slytherin.

It would be a waste, and Tom placed a hand on the boy’s hair, parting his fringe, looking then at a curious lightning bolt scar. He was against the idea of spilling magical blood, but there were many of them. No one would miss a stranger.

A delighted smile spread across his face at the thought of murder.

Harry whispered, “ _Don’t… touch me.”_ Then pushed him away feebly before fainting.

Tom’s blue eyes flashed as a wave of possessiveness overcome him. He knelt before the passed out child, wondering if he misheard. He distinctly heard the Potter child reply to him in Parseltongue.

The snake language. And he was the last of his kind. That changes things.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom Riddle stakes his claim as he sees fit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Purely written for my own enjoyment (or the lack of it).

He penned the letter to the boy's family, knowing that this is but a formality.

_ Dear Henry, _

_ My name is Tom Marvolo Riddle, also known as Lord Slytherin. I write to you in the hopes that you will allow me to marry Harry Potter. It is almost as if fate has orchestrated that you saw to it that he came to me as my charge. I believe that I have found him a suitable match to continue the Slytherin Lineage. If I may be so forward, the reason for this is that our magic is compatible. As I am a magic sensitive, I could not help but feel it and I have long been looking for a hand in marriage. As customary, I have started my courtship, and if you refuse this request, not that I think it would be possible given the benefits that this marriage will provide, I shall request a duel. I am serious with my claim and I hope you forgive me for being quite forward. I look forward to hearing from you, and your wife at the soonest. _ _  
_ _  
_ _ Sincerely, _

_ Lord Slytherin _

He sent a raven and off the letter went.

The truth was, his interest was piqued. There was something hiding behind the innocent facade, and as he lay the child on his bed and perused his mind multiple times, only to cast a one too many placed Obliviates, he found something quite curious.

The boy’s memories have been erased. The ministry was trying to hide something. Dumbledore, together with the Potters. And he was not going to let the chance go.

He did not care much for Harry himself other than the curiosity behind his existence. The strangeness of it, and the desire to torment him.

As he was practically royalty, they did not care if he broke the rules a little, and he had the boy transferred to his room as a permanent fixture so to speak.

* * *

The other purebloods could see there was something special at play. It wasn’t that he was hiding his interest. He was flaunting it.

Harry Potter was his.

Abraxas was his second in command, and he was there when he placed a heirloom upon the boy’s neck.

The first gift, as it were. His mother's locket. Slytherin's Locket.  


The blond seemed as if frozen, “This is madness, My Lord. Many people were after your hand and you chose a Potter…”

Tom touched the locket with a lingering longing. It was after all the one of the few things his mother left him. Something he had to find and claim for himself. It was paid for dearly by those who sought to keep it to themselves.  


“He is as good as any other. A magical match, so to speak. Don’t you think you are too presumptuous to question my decision?”

“Forgive me for this, but does his family know?”

At Tom’s rather icy stare, Abraxas laughed shakily and said, “I’m quite surprised My Lord, I was honestly not expecting this. I... To think you would be wed before me. To a child. At that.”

Tom waved his hand at the detail, “Harry will not remain a child for long and has it not been our practice to cement marriages at a young age? Given that the community is keen to see my line restored, I don’t see why not.”

Abraxas sighed. “I will see to it the others know, but before that My Lord. I have what you asked for. There was a note that said only you should see its contents.”

Tom held out a hand and from the pocket of Abraxas came out a small envelope which began to unravel before Tom’s eyes.

Tom read it.

_ Harry Potter is a prized individual of the Ministry of Magic. He is what most would refer to as a Traveler. The existence of which has never been proven until now and yet he is not what it seems. Upon his arrival, a prophecy was made between you and the child. That is why you were assigned as his guardian. To know more about the prophecy, we require that you be present in the Hall of Prophecy in the Department of Mysteries. _

_ Harry Potter’s memories have been removed and much of what he remembers has been slightly modified. It could be said that his memories are distasteful to the current state of affairs of the Wizarding World. The knowledge he once held could have been detrimental to our society so our ministry had to take such measures. He was not one of us, and now that his mind is a blank slate, he is yours to mold, Lord Slytherin. Consider this as a gift and not a puzzle that I am sure you wish to unravel. Nothing good will come out of it.  
_

_ I must warn you that the means of which your companion used to acquire knowledge leaves much to be desired but know that you have many supporters, Lord Slytherin. If you were not of your standing, this would be considered treason, but as such, we only wish you the best. If you wish to know more, there are ways to share knowledge. Ones that do not leave traces. _

“Incendio.”

Tom watched the note burn and turned to look at Abraxas.

“Tell him, I wish for a meeting.”

“Of course, My Lord.”

Once Abraxas left his room, he stared at the boy in wonder.

“How curious, that you are so wrapped in mystery but also of danger. A traveler. One that does not belong to this world. One that has transcended another world to come upon ours. A proof that there are many worlds besides the ones created through Time Travel.”

Tom grinned as he traced the boy’s face.

* * *

Harry woke up once more, and everything around him was blurry for a while until it snapped to focus on the green of the bed hangings. The afternoon sun lit the room in a golden glow.

He looked up above, seeing the dust motes floating. Individually. Until they blurred again and he heard the crackling of the fireplace. He blinked once more and his hands felt something cold upon his neck. He was about to touch it until he felt the bed dip beside him. Glasses were set upon his nose.  


“Tom? Where am I?”

“My room.”

Harry tried to sit up but found that he couldn’t. His muscles were protesting at the effort and an ache that shouldn’t be there could be felt. He winced at the pain.

It was a familiar sensation, something he felt before but his memory was blurry.

“You fainted, and I’ve called for the healers. They said your magical exhaustion is affecting your recovery and have prescribed bed rest. You will share my chambers and you will not be allowed out when I am not with you.”

“What about my lessons?”

“They will resume as normal, with an escort of my choosing.”

Harry seemed to have something to say but he could feel the fear.

“I’m sorry, for all the trouble,” he said in earnest.  Harry looked down, almost shy.

Tom inched closer and placed his hand atop the boy’s hand. “Do not be. For soon, caring for you will become my primary responsibility.”

Tom looked away and said, “Parseltongue is an inherited skill and I know you speak the language. **_You spoke to me after all._ ** _ ” _

He was practically royalty in the wizarding world, he knew the boy’s family would not say no.

“ **_What do you mean...?_ ** ”

“ ** _You do not remember. But perhaps this will bring more clarity._** ”

So he showed Harry the letter. The Potters explained that the child was precious to them as any other Potter, and if Tom could promise to take care of Harry, then he will have his hand in marriage.

The deal was done.

Harry paled at this.

“We will be wed this coming Yule. You will be under my protection whether you want it or not, little one.”

Tom kissed the boy’s forehead whose hands trembled at the letter.

“Do not worry, I intend to be a loving husband.”

And for Harry, whether it was a blessing at that moment or a curse, lost his consciousness once more.

* * *

Harry closed his eyes and the next moment he woke, the sun was long gone.

Upon waking up, he was bone tired. His muscles were sore and he had a headache that made him want to curl up some more in the comfortable bed that he was in.

And then he noticed red eyes looking down at him, beside him.

"You slept so well."

But when Tom moved and Harry attempted to move away, his legs were frozen.

And he was breathing harshly.

Then he was being embraced, kissed on the forehead. It was very strange but something about the action seemed right and so terribly wrong at the same time.

"You’ve been asleep for several days. How are you feeling?"

“Like I’m still dreaming.”

Harry let the silence creep and watched as Tom’s eyes narrowed. Tom stood up from the bed.

“You must be hungry. I’ve had them send you food.”

Harry nodded, and Tom helped him to sit up. The food was levitated to their side and Harry forced his muscles to cooperate with him, and he began to eat.

“Do you remember our conversation, about your betrothal to me?”

Harry’s fork dropped. And he picked it up once more, trying to focus more on the orange of the carrot. And the red meat.

His mind was muddled but he remembered reading the letter before feeling very sleepy.

There was something about Tom that seemed dangerous. As if he was going to hurt him again. A memory of being hurt.

“Do I have a choice?”

"No… it has already been decided, Harry. Your family has signed it and it is now public knowledge that we are to be wed."

Harry’s grip on the fork tightened, “But… you barely know me. And I’m… I’m too young.”

“Your memory loss is clearly showing your lack of knowledge of the customs and traditions of the Wizarding World. Wizards and Witches can be wed as early as nine years old. And you are older than that. You’re quite ready.”

At this Tom poured himself a glass of wine, smelling it and drinking from it.

Harry looked up then, with defiance.

“I am not ready. I don’t even know you.”

Tom Riddle laughed at him.

“You will know me. We will have a long time to get to know each other and perhaps if this is not the match you are looking for, then we can find  _ others  _ later in life but see…  **_you are a Parselmouth, and I intend to find what you truly are._ ** ”

Harry blinked at this. The strange sibilant noise. Parseltongue.

A memory of ginger hair and bright brown eyes. The outrage of others that he could speak it.  _ Parseltongue was bad. _

“Harry.”

Harry pushed away the food, feeling sick.

“I’m just Harry. I’m nobody special.”

Tom smirked, “That is what you think.”

Tom considered him, and said for a moment, “Shower and dress. Let me take you out to the grounds. A little bit of fresh air might do you good.”

* * *

Whispers filled the air, and Tom insisted he took his hand. The walk to the lake was uncomfortable. Harry was not quite sure by what being wed meant, for all he knew was the rudimentary definition.

That it was a merging of assets. It signified the union between two families in the past and less about the union of two people.

And yet there are some who love each other. Reading up on marriage made him want to throw up because he had not even been kissed, and here he was being wed to a man he did not know.

A man who seemed to have bedded multiple men and women from the looks of it. Tom said passingly to him that he had a lot of experience in the matters of debauchery and should he need further education, “A trip to the muggle whorehouses would be easy enough to arrange. You can be provided a front row to the delightful activities that we both can participate in. You can even sample some of their wares.”

To which the young boy replied, “How can you say that with such a straight face? And do you not care about muggles at all? You talk about them as if they’re just animals...”

“Harry, this is the world we live in. You better accept that they are truly nothing more than livestock.”

"That's what they are."

"No. I don't. I can't stand this. I don't agree with you."

"Unreasonable brat," Tom muttered under his breath.

Without warning, Tom’s intent to show him to the lake and enjoy a pleasant conversation turned south and he grabbed the boy’s shoulder and apparated them to the seedy district of Knockturn Alley.

There, he dragged the boy to a slave house.

"You frustrate me, Harry Potter. Let me teach you a lesson. Since you care so much about your precious muggles, every time you displease me, you will see one of them suffer. Each one of the purebloods are allowed one muggle to do away their frustrations with. I do not want you to pity them."

Harry was pushed inside and the dingy cellar opened to rows and rows of cages as naked women and men of all age and size stared up at him with dead eyes. The smell was disgusting. Sweat and a badly cleaned bathroom.  


“Ah, Lord Slytherin. It is a pleasure.”

“My companion is in need of some education. It's his first time here.”

“Ahh. Such a rarity.”

“But I don’t want one, Tom.” Harry looked up at Tom and noticed the boy’s blue eyes had bled to red.

“Do not test me, Harry, you will choose one now if you know what’s good for you. You should be considering this a gift. Good slaves do not come cheap these days.”

The owner walked forward, a man who reminded Harry of a butcher with his apron. And perhaps he was one if his year mates were to be believed. “Just take a pick whomever strikes your fancy. They come from round the world. Perhaps you would like a female that’s a screamer? Or a virgin boy. Is there a particular type you require eh lad?”

Harry knew he could not argue his way out of this but tried anyway, “Is there a point to this?”

“It is about time you acquainted yourself with our practices.”

“But don’t you see that this is wrong? They just look like us… why do you keep them in such bad conditions?”

The owner laughed, "I run one of the best. There are even more delicate types at the back, if you are interested."

“Harry, just pick one, now.”

"And I thought this was supposed to be a breath of fresh air."

"Do not try me."

Harry glared, and said, "Fine."

Harry felt compelled to do so with the command and pointed at someone random.

And then he saw a child, younger than him and remembered the lesson in Dark Arts.

“This one?”

Tom smiled thinly, “We’ll take her.”

* * *

With a wave of Tom's hand, he opened the closet inside his room and a body came out. A teenage boy with bruises all over, burn marks and cuts. A sewed lip and a missing eye.

"Diffindo"

The boy’s arm tore open.

Harry flinched and swallowed a scream.

Behind him the young girl of seven started screaming for him.  


Tom smiled beside him and grinned further when the boy started trembling.

"Harry, you do not want to make me mad."

He could feel his heart racing to his throat.  


"Now what you do with your slave, I do not care as long as you do not treat it with the same dignity as you treat other witches and wizards. They exist to relieve our stress, to torture, to hurt, to harvest. You can think of them as pets but be caught caring for them and others will find out. Our society has not forgiven muggles for what they did when they have decided to hunt our kind years ago. We are only doing the same… You must understand."

And with this, Tom looked at the body and cast a green light.

"The house elves will dispose of him. His death is a mercy. Now show me what you can do."

Harry was shaking when he raised his wand, “Is this what’s normal? To hurt and kill others that do not have magic.”

“Yes,” Tom said as a matter of fact, bored.

Harry closed his eyes and pushed himself away from Tom. He wanted to disappear. Wake up.

The little girl was crawling away as far as her chained up body could do.

“What’s going to happen if I don’t want to. I find it absurd. All of this? I don’t like the idea of hurting other people.”

“Our society does the same to our food, to our land... We take, and take. Why should we spare muggles who have done worse to us and to the very Earth?”

Harry felt as if he was talking to a wall.

“What’s a little curse? Why not cut her up, just like what I did?  **_You are frustrated and angry at me. Since you know you cannot raise your hand against me, why not do it to her? She will not fight back._ ** _ ” _

Tom leaned down and gave him a delicate kiss on his forehead.

“I don't want to.”

“Or I could torture her for you. I can remove parts of her and put her back together. You will hear her scream. Again and again unless I cut off her throat. Dark Magic is euphoric and can calm you down and your reluctance to it puzzles me and I am frustrated that you are being insufferable.”

Harry knew he was hardly an innocent for he already participated in torture for his class. It was meant to be educational. Tom made sense and at the same time he didn't. He truly just wanted the ground to swallow him up.

“How do you suppose we learn how magic works if we do not see practical application for it? It is important for you to get over your revulsion for hurting insignificant things. Your survival here depends on it. You do not want to be a pariah, Harry, and you will be wed to me soon. I do not want a muggle sympathizer on my arm. Come. Cut her.”

Harry stared at Tom's cold blue eyes and knew that he was capable of doing what he claimed. He'd rather the little girl suffer a small cut than be tortured to death.

“Diffindo.”

He cast and watched the red bloom on her skin. The milky white of her thigh splitting open a little.

“Again.”

“But… I already hurt her.”

“That cut, is so small it is barely the size of my thumb. You have to do it with more force.”

"Even when I'm not supposed to be using magic?"

"This much, your doctors should allow you to, and you better do it soon or else I'll lose my patience, Harry."

“Diffindo.”

This time there was a vertical cut on the girl’s back and she let out another scream.

There was so much blood.

Harry’s breath was heaving and Tom pulled Harry to him. Breathing him in.

"Don't worry. I won't let anyone harm you… you will have the entire school protect you should I so wish it, Harry. You're safe here… just blend in, for me. Know that I am doing this for your benefit. Sympathizers are treated very harshly and some of them even die for daring to be  _ different.  _ Wasn’t that easy? A few cuts. Tomorrow we can practice again, until you get over your fear."

“It’s not fear.”

Tom looked at the boy’s green eyes and carefully asked, “If not fear, then why.”

“Because… I remember being hurt before. I don’t want to hurt others if I don’t have to.”

Tom considered this and Harry could see cold calculation on the older boy’s face, “You remember, you say. Look at me.”

Harry looked up at red eyes and figments of being hurt, fragments of the pain of being unable to fight back.

Tom’s grip on his shoulders tightened as he perused the fuzzy memory and dug even deeper.

And they both saw something abhorrent. The feeling of being locked up in a small space, with no one for company and looking out of a keyhole.

A cupboard under the stairs. “The freak can’t eat dinner.”

Looking at muggles that seemed to symbolize Harry's family.

Harry was shaking when he was done, and Tom felt revulsion. “Muggles hurt you, and yet you refuse to hurt them. No, no… it is not that you refuse, it is because a part of you considers them similar because buried deep inside you is empathy for these creatures. You should stop defending them, Harry. You will only get yourself hurt… I don’t want you hurt.”

Tom wiped Harry’s tears and Harry looked down.

The horrible feeling didn't go away. That what he just witnessed was wrong. That this was wrong.

Tom led him out of the bed chambers and into the adjacent drawing room to sit by the fire and eat dinner. Meanwhile the house elves started cleaning Tom's room.

Harry was shell shocked as Tom gently patted in between his legs as a gesture for him to sit there.

Harry felt wary but he could feel the pull of magic.

"I’m sorry. I pushed you too hard it seems. We can continue some other day when you feel better."

But that begs the question. What kind of world existed where muggles were still allowed to hurt wizards when they have all been turned to slaves or granted the fortune of magic?

Such a world…

* * *

Harry dreams of such a world, where every wrong felt right. It was strange, as if he was in a different world altogether. It felt more real than where he was.

Where muggles were allowed their freedom, and where wizards did not hold contempt for them.

Where he was a murderer of a man with red eyes.

And Harry saw himself walking in the darkness, with many spirits answering a call. The moon was out and the leaves crunched underneath him.

_ And one by one faceless ones stood up beside him. _

**_“This world is also headed to ruin. For nothing remains in the end. Not even a flower._** **_And you are but a seed._** **”**

Harry saw lifeless eyes beside him, and he saw mirrors of himself. They all seemed to be waiting for him to speak.

“How many of us are there?”

“Many. Too many. And then there is you. You can come back to where you come from, but you will not find happiness there.”

“And will I find happiness here?” Harry asked the nearest one, an older looking him, with hollow eyes and multiple stab wounds on the chest.

“That depends on you child. Happiness can be found anywhere but there is always a cost, to using the power, a curse. A trap for being the master of death.”

Harry looked at his hands.

And upon it was a Lily.

* * *

Going back to class was terrifying.

He could feel as if every eye was looking at him, and Harry wondered if they would lock him up if they knew he was not normal.

That instead of hurting muggles, he wanted to care for them.

That he thought his family was absurd for giving him away to a man who he barely knew. That his teachers would never truly take his side for they worshipped Tom.

“They’re saying once Tom graduates, he intends to take you with him.”

Harry’s quill snapped.

Amelinda sighed dreamily, “If only I could meet my own prince.”

And Harry thought of the bleeding girl in Tom Riddle’s bedroom. He didn’t even ask for her name.

They watched the professor in healing continue with history, “Four hundred years ago, it was difficult to practice healing without the permission of rulers be they muggle or magical. But now that the responsibility rests in our hands, we are experiencing progress finally. To perfect a procedure, of growing bones for example, several sacrifices had to be made. Potions need to be tested after all, first with animals, then with muggles, then and only then can we use them on the common folk. This has reduced deaths associated with healing. Mr. Potter, if you can read out the first paragraph of the second chapter of the book.”

Harry stood up and read, “Magical folk have the advantage of faster healing and yet in certain circumstances when the body suffers other maladies, it is important to support it with potions and salves. In the 1800s, the Healing Guild wanted to determine the efficacy of such potions and salves, and seventeen thousand muggle slaves have been isolated without food or water for a period of a year. Many starved to death. Many more died of thirst-”

“That’s quite enough, Mr. Potter. Can someone tell me the results of this famous experiment?”

“Yes Mr. Diggory.”

“It reduced the demand for Phoenix Tears. It is perhaps the cause too, professor. There was a shortage for healing potions and items and as we had to care for our slaves and ourselves, we needed to create cheaper alternatives. The creation of stuff like Dittany and the spell Purgatio Sanguinem is the result of the experiment.”

The professor started clapping.

“Marvelous. Fifteen points to the Ravenclaw. That, and of course they solved the question of how much water and food does the body need in order to survive. Now if you turn to page seventy two, you’ll see two spells that we will be practicing today. Tergeo and Episkey.”

Inside, Harry felt numb. A mask put upon his face to ensure that no one saw the discomfort.

And Amelinda saw it perhaps and said, “Don’t worry, Harry. I feel the same. I too feel like we shouldn’t be wasting our time taking care of the slaves. They are so dirty and they have so many diseases that we do not have. Cheer up. You’re not alone.”

Far from it it seemed.

Harry tried to trace the necklace that Tom gave him.


End file.
